


under different stars

by A_Starry_Night



Category: Broadchurch
Genre: Gen
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-03-27
Updated: 2016-12-28
Packaged: 2018-05-29 08:58:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 4
Words: 9,957
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6368341
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/A_Starry_Night/pseuds/A_Starry_Night
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ellie and Alec have gone their separate ways since the end of Joe Miller's trial, and that should be the end of the story. Fate, it seems, has other ideas when Fred Miller disappears and Broadchurch once again bands together to protect its own.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Part I

**Author's Note:**

> The beginning of this story has literally been written down and gathering dust for about a year, and I finally unearthed it to go ahead and type it up. It's what I would probably label as my own 'S3' storyline, because Chris Chibnall could not leave Ellie's and Joe's last conversation like he did without doing back to it later.
> 
> I do not own 'Welcome To Night Vale'. It's just a small nod to the podcast, really, a blink and you'll miss it moment in this chapter.

_So I will hum alone, too far from you_  
All that I say now is nothing to you  
We will lie under different stars  
I am where I am and you're where you are  
You're where you are 

“Different Stars”, Trespasser’s William

00000000

Alec Hardy leaves Broadchurch and that’s the end of that. He passes the outskirts of the small sea-side town and its crashing growling sea and breathes a sigh. It’s a long sigh, heavy and laden with what the past few months have wrought, but already he feels a bit lighter. He has never been one to eagerly plan his future (not since leaving his bastard father’s house, anyway) and today is no different.

But he’s appeased for now. He knows at least one goal in sight, to spend time with his daughter and hopefully salvage what remains of the relationship with her that had become so shattered. 

His thoughts lay behind him. On a simple handshake that has left him feeling slightly bereft and abandoned. On a family left without a son he feels he has let down.

He shakes himself from the direction of those thoughts: Miller had shied away from him even at the last and he respects and cares for her enough to leave it at that. Give her some time, perhaps. He still has her number in his phone, after all. The Latimers he has not seen since the last day of the trial when he had gazed across the space of the court and caught sight of Beth running from the room. It’s perhaps the memory of that, seeing the mother break all over again, that kicks him hardest in the stomach even now.

There’s nothing more he can do for any of them. For any of them.

Life has never dealt even or fair hands. He’s not expecting it to start now.

00000000

Ellie moves forward in a strange mix of slow motion and fast forward. Joe’s trial is now a couple of months behind the town of Broadchurch, behind her, but there are moments where she’ll think that it was only yesterday that they banished her sick monster of a husband from the town. 

She holds her sons a little closer on those days.

Overall, she copes as best she can. The house that has long since stood neglected from fixing up is her focus: the walls are repainted (finished in some cases), the floors are scrubbed or vacuumed, and the windows are washed both inside and out. Beth comes and helps her when Lizzie is feeling up to it and together they make decent headway against the dust and dirt and chipped paint that has built up in the corners. At night she sleeps in a smaller bed that she has only recently bought in a store and covers herself in blankets and sheets that she has bleached and washed Joe’s scent from. 

There is still no sign of Joe’s possible (probable) return, but even with Paul’s assurances that he is still living in Sheffield she finds it hard to sleep at night.

She stays up late at night and sometimes will catch sight of a familiar name and phone number in her contacts that will give her pause. She should just delete Hardy’s information from her phone: he left Broadchurch without hesitation and she hasn’t heard anything from him or about him since. There are several moments where her finger will hover on the delete button but she can never quite bring herself to do it: there is still a part of her that hopes that he will call or text her, proving that he cared for their strange friendship in more than just being partners solving a case.

He never does.

0000000

She’s approached with the possibility of the DI position in the Broadchurch police force. Her information had been transferred over from Devon back to her hometown to help with the solving of Sandbrook and there have been several times where she has been asked back to stay. Her money is running thin and she misses the nature of her job, so she takes it.

Sandbrook is a topic Ellie does not breach under any circumstances. She can feel the eyes of those curious about it and studiously ignores them, even Beth and Ollie (especially Ollie) when they attempt to ask her about it. The newspapers and television channels and radio stations talk of little else for weeks and Ellie finds her footsteps dogged by reporters down to catch the latest scoop on one of the detectives who solved the years’-old case.

Ollie she scares away with a quite genuine threat of bodily harm between the legs. He takes her seriously and skittishly avoids her for the next month.

Beth is harder. She wishes that she could feel comfortable telling Beth about those weeks of stress and sleeplessness and suspicions as she tried to help Hardy navigate through Claire’s and Lee’s lies, but every time Beth asks her Ellie can see the hope in her eyes. She doesn’t know if Beth is even aware of it but she sees it, faintly shining away; deep down Beth hopes that Ellie and Hardy will pull off another miraculous solving of a case, this time the Broadchurch case, and Joe will be put in jail for good.

So for now she solves petty crime in her town and she is content with that. She catches a robber or a teenager disturbing the peace and she is in familiar territory, but there will be times when she’ll find she misses the satisfaction of seeing a suspect crack.

‘Rural detective. Keep it in your limits.’

Remembering Hardy saying that will make her angry sometimes. Most of the time, though, she just feels sad. 

She misses him. She misses the stubborn miserable bloody wanker and that makes her mad. When had he gone from an almost-hated boss to someone she genuinely cared about? There are moments when she’s tempted to call him and start a fight just so she can hear his familiar snarking and rough Scottish brogue again but she realizes how childish that is and always puts her phone away. 

Life continues on irregardless and soon she finds six months have passed since Joe’s trial. Fred turns three and grows two inches and Tom manages to pass his grades for the term. Winter comes and goes, leaving dark dead earth and brown grass in its wake, and she feels the oncoming spring settling in. 

And then she gets the call from Paul as she’s out looking for a trespasser on John Peter’s farm, and her whole world falls apart at the seams.

00000000

There are whispers at the station in Bywater when Alec arrives in the morning. He’s used to the gossip in the copper circles and pays them no heed, although he does have to bark at them to start paying their attention to their work. He sees the looks he gets at his tone and rudeness but he shrugs them off and seats himself at his desk to finish filling out paperwork.

He has been in Bywater, a town situated just outside of Sandbrook, for close to four months now. The name of the town serves to amuse him: the person who had named it must have been a devout _Lord of the Rings_ fan.

Or maybe they had really been that unimaginative. 

Daisy is practically a young woman now, working through her schooling with a diligence that surprises him but serves to make him proud at the same time; he quickly discovers, however, that when homework is not in the schedule her friends are. She is rarely in the house anymore except to sleep, or so Tess impatiently tells him when he asks.

It’s Tess herself that causes him to leave Sandbrook again. She still lives in the same bloody house she’d built there and what’s more she lives openly with Dave, the smug bastard, and it takes all of Alec’s (admittedly) short self-restraint to not reach and punch him in the mouth. Tess, finally showing some common sense, realizes the dangers of having the two men sharing the house in any amount of time and it’s Alec who finally decides to stay away from the property. He meets with Daisy on some weekends and when he finds a decent flat in Bywater she comes every so often and spends the night. 

It’s progress with his daughter, however little it is, and he’s just happy for the time she’s willing to talk to him.

Solving Sandbrook is a blessing and a curse. On the one hand his infamy only grows having now been linked to two major profile cases, and he’s followed by several journalists who he avoids at all costs. On the other, however, it’s relatively easy for him to transfer to Bywater’s force and within three months of living in this new town he is reinstated as Detective Inspector. Until the frenzy of Joe Miller’s trial and the solving of Sandbrook dies down he ignores the news and focuses instead on the cases that cross his desk.

There are times, however, when he will think back to Broadchurch, and the smaller police force there. Danny’s case was definitely the largest thing that town ever dealt with but sometimes he’ll find himself wishing for the relatively peaceful atmosphere of the seaside town.

Specifically he misses Miller but he never admits it. Her information is still in his phone but he never truly takes the time to look at it. He’ll catch himself wondering every so often how she’s doing but stops himself from entertaining any further speculations. They parted ways in Broadchurch and that is how it will remain.

This morning if the officers’ silent gazes are aimed his way he doesn’t realize it. The moment of startled interest only comes near the end of his day when he overhears two of his DSs talking.

“But we don’t know who’s done it—“

“Oh come off it, Annie. That town’s fucked up, anyway, ever since the Latimer case. Now the DS’s son goes missing? That’s not a coincidence—“

DS’s son. The words make Alec’s blood freeze. The Latimers named can only mean they’re talking about Broadchurch, and Miller was the only Detective Sergeant on that case.  
One of her sons. Missing.

“Shit,” he breathes, and is surprised by the amount of genuine fright he feels not for a potential victim but for someone he finds he can very well care about. He doesn’t know if the boy missing is Tom or if it’s Fred, or who took them in the first place, but he calls Miller as soon as he leaves the station. Dusk is setting in, wrapping the streets in quiet darkness, his way painted with the yellow light of street lamps as his long strides eat up the distance to his flat. The phone rings three, four, five times, and then goes to voice mail. He disconnects with a low growl of frustration and dials the next number he can think of.

Tess picks up almost immediately, her voice slightly miffed. “You may not realize this, Alec, but some of us have later hours than you, you know—“

“What have you heard about Miller’s son who was kidnapped, Tess?”

He hears her low scoff of incredulity. “How should I know that, Alec? You know Ellie better than I do, shouldn’t you know what’s going on already?”

It’s a deliberate jab, one he doesn’t quite understand. Nor does he have the patience for it. “Just answer the bloody question.”

“Well, clearly this new town hasn’t taught you any better manners.” She sighs impatiently, her voice cold. “It’s Ellie’s youngest son. He went missing a day ago, they don’t know who took him or where he is—"

Fred. Kidnapped. A day ago. Wee Fred.

He stops in his tracks, running a distracted hand through his hair. “Fuck,” he whispers. That icy hand of fear is gripping his throat, starting to squeeze now. Where was Miller that she wasn’t picking up her bloody phone? “They don’t have any information?”

“Well…” There’s the rustling of papers in the background. He wonders what his ex-wife is looking at. “There is speculation of who could have done it. It appears that there’s a woman who states she saw a man picking Fred up at the playground…”

He can barely force the next words out as that icy hand chokes him. “Do they have a description of the man, Tess?”

“Alec—"

“Damn it, Tess, tell me!”

“Small. Thin. The woman said he was bald and was wearing a blue windbreaker.”

He’s frozen where he stands as he realizes that in Miller’s case that description could only mean one person specifically. He hears Tess still speaking but her words are garbled and he can’t understand them, and he’s sufficiently distracted enough he doesn’t hear the footsteps approaching lightly behind him until the last minute. The hair on the back of his neck stand up as his instincts kick in hard and the phone forgotten he lowers his hand and turns quickly on his heel—

Too late. He feels a sharp, quick flash of agony on the back of his head and everything goes black.


	2. Part II

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have Star Trek to blame for the inspiration for the last few sentences of this chapter, specifically the episode 'The Naked Time'. 
> 
> Trigger warning(s) for this chapter. this is a violent chapter. Knives and water. Nothing too graphic, though.

He wakes abruptly, surrounded inky darkness. The air smells dank and wet, of rotting foliage. Over the thumping of his heart he can pick out the gentle lapping of water against a bank—he’s been left by the side of a river. Its soft purr is like a menacing growl to him and he feels a chill run down his spine as the feral fear of what that water means to him registers. He tries to sit up and finds that his hands have been tied in front of him with coarse rope, tight enough he thinks the tightness of the knot will draw blood. 

Definitely abduction, then, he thinks, and forces down his fear; it won’t help him by freaking out. He swallows past a dry throat, his heart racing, and waits for his eyes to adjust to the dark.

Then he hears a truck door slam closed; it was its approach that had woken him, he supposes, and he can’t do anything but listen as light footsteps approach. The back of his head throbs with pain and he can feel drying blood plastering down his hair on the back of his neck. The sudden light of a lantern (a bloody camping lantern, of all things) blinds him as the person turns into sight around a tree and it takes him a moment to see who it is who has done this.

“Joe?”

Bloody hell. Besides the supposition that miller’s husband has kidnapped Fred, he hasn’t heard or seen anything about Joe since the end of the man’s farce of a trial besides Miller’s assurances that he had been “dealt with”. Although he’s grateful that the people of Broadchurch have not become a community of murderers, he curses the fact that in this instance he appears to be at Joe’s mercy.

He looks like shit. His clothes are mussed and wrinkled and hanging off him unhealthily, and a spotty beard colors his jaw. His face is pale and peaked as he comes closer, clutching a simple fold up chair.

“DI Hardy,” he says coldly; his Welsh accent grates like stone. He unfolds the chair and sits down, keeping four or five feet between them. “I see I’ve managed to surprise you.”

“What the hell are you doing, Joe?” Alec’s still too taken aback to be angry and until something changes he’s willing to simply be wary. He senses, though, that things cannot remain this calm for long. “Where’s Fred?”

Joe smirks but his eyes glint in a flat way. “You’ve always been the one asking questions,” he says by way of an explanation of Alec’s first question; he ignores the second completely. “Now you’ll be the one answering them.”

“About what?” There is a burning anger in Joe’s eyes Alec doesn’t like.

“About _my_ wife.” The stress of ‘my’ turns the statement dangerously possessive; Alec isn’t sure if Joe really understands that Miller truly hates him now and holds no fond emotions for her husband. “About your affair.”

The accusation nearly makes the copper gape in astonishment. “You couldn’t have asked Miller about this herself?” God, this can not be happening. He shifts half-heartedly in the sandy earth of the riverbank, trying to find purchase. 

“I would but they’ve exiled me.” This is the focal point of Joe’s fury, bitter and biting. “I asked for sanctuary with Paul but the son of a bitch rallied the town together and carted me off to Sheffield.”

Good for Coates. For the first time Alec finds he can whole-heartedly back something Broadchurch’s local vicar has done. He stays silent, however, hoping that it will prompt Joe to speak up again. He has to find out what frame of mind the man is in. 

He’s rewarded. Joe seems unnerved by the silence. “I’ll be visiting him soon enough. Him and Beth.” The last name is spat with hatred, startling Alec. 

“Beth?”

“She’s become the fucking matriarch of the entire town. She’s the one who made the decision to toss me out.”

There’s another person Alec is going to have to congratulate; he had been impressed by Beth Latimer’s strength throughout her son’s murder case and beyond even if he rarely spoke to her one-on-one. He isn’t surprised that she had made the decision; it’s her right after all.

But she’s endangered herself by doing so. “Joe, this isn’t going to solve anything. You know that. You’ve just condemned yourself to another jail visit and a trial for this. Don’t add any more.”

“It’s worth it,” Joe snaps. “To see them all paid back for what they’ve done. They’re all guilty in this, it’s not just me! Mark cheated on his wife, you heard him, he was going to leave Beth for Becca Fisher. Nige was threatening people with crossbows. Even Paul, he’s a violent drunk!”

“You’re the only one who murdered a child, Joe.” Alec’s voice sharpens with a mix of anger and disbelief; he can’t believe what he’s hearing. “An innocent boy who should have been able to _trust_ you!”

Joe’s expression darkens. “He was going to tell them. He would’ve ruined everything. Our perfect lives would’ve been ruined.”

An icy shard of horrified disgust rips at his stomach. “You’re _glad_ you killed Danny,” he breathes in open dismay. The realization falls between them and hangs there like a ghost.

Joe’s lip curls in a derisive sneer. “Don’t play the high and mighty game, Hardy. You wouldn’t have solved the case if I hadn’t turned myself in.” He leans forward. “So what are you hiding, then? You’re just as hypocritical as everyone else. You asked an awful lot of questions about how Danny and I hugged. Even asked if we were naked to do it. Do you get off on that sort of thing, then? Imagine children naked while you’re jerking off in the shower?”

The disgust faded to horror and for a split second Alec thinks his careful mask will crack and Joe will see just how badly he’s shaken him. “Never.”

“My wife, then. You really were having an affair, weren’t you? All the way since the beginning!”

“Don’t be daft,” Alec snarls, thoroughly put off by the old accusation. His own temper is rising. “We hated each other!”

“And yet you came for dinner. You worked late hours together—and what were you two doing while I was in jail, eh?”

“Absolutely nothing.”

It’s the honest truth but it makes no difference; it only sparks Joe’s crazed fury. “Liar!” he explodes, red and wide-eyed, and Alec feels the breath catch in his throat when he realizes that it’s this that killed Danny.

_‘It would have been brutal.’_

Brutal, yes. And terrifying. The switch has been flipped and the anger hiding behind Joe’s placidity is in full, unobstructed view, ready to lash out. “I heard Bishop say it herself—Ellie went to see you in your fucking hotel room. She left our boys alone that night for you! You both denied it but you were having an affair that night!”

“Your wife came for answers to understand why her husband would want to fuck an eleven-year-old boy!”

Joe screams in rage and lashes out viciously, catching the copper across the face. Unable to catch himself, Alec sprawls in the dirt, his breath leaving him all at once. Pain lances across his ribs and chest and he has one moment when he fears that the pacemaker is broken before he feels strong, trembling hands grab his hair and force his head up.

Joe’s eyes are black in the dim lighting from the lantern, lip curling in a snarl of hatred. The water of the river laps gently softly against the shallow bank, deceptively calm and languid, and suddenly a peculiar smile curls the other man’s mouth as he turns to look at the expanse of river. “This is where that girl’s body was found, isn’t it?” he asks softly. “This same river, since I've brought you to Sandbrook.”

_‘I found her. Pippa Gillespie, she was in the river.’_

Very little frightens Alec. Angers him, sure, makes him nervous, yes—but true fright? Only the water can do that. Pippa’s bloated, decaying face dances in his mind’s eye, floating beneath the water’s surface as the rain beat down upon him, and he can feel himself drowning again.

His sharp intake of breath and tensing shoulders draws Joe’s attention. “Ellie laughed at you, you know,” he remarks with that same odd smile. “Said you’re afraid of the water.”

He can’t brace himself to push up off the ground, he can’t even twist out of Joe’s grasp, but he tries anyway, desperate to escape his captor’s grip because he sees the glint in Joe’s eyes, knows it to be something violent, and he can already guess what the man’s plan is. 

Anger makes Joe strong, however, and Alec is still trying to shake off the hit to the back of his head. “You tell me you and Ellie were having an affair, Hardy,” Joe bargains with him, “and I won’t do anything to you. I’ll let you go. Just say you were having an affair.”

The water creeps closer, dangerously closer; he can already smell the heavy decay of the foliage beneath the surface and shakes his head. “We didn’t, Joe. It never happened.” The water splashes a bit as Joe’s left foot enters the river and he makes one last attempt at escape.

Joe’s quick, and grabs hold of both his shirt collar and his bound hands, and pushes him in. Water, rich with the sickening smell of rot and decaying plant life, washes over Alec’s head and soaks his shoulders, rushing up his nose and into his mouth. And quite suddenly he’s thrust back into the terrifying moment of being drawn deep into the river while retrieving Pippa’s body, light and darkness swirling together and confusion about what way was up or down. Panicked and terrified he thrashes and fights Joe’s grip, trying to dislodge the man’s grasp on the back of his neck but the latter proves stronger than he looks. Joe keeps him below the water until spots are dancing in front of his eyes and he’s on the verge of losing consciousness, and then he’s yanked, choking and coughing, back into the air.

Joe’s furious expression dances in front of him. “Admit that you had an affair with my wife, Hardy,” he growls, “or I’ll do it again.”

Trembling and trying to steady his dangerously racing heart Alec looks up at him and for a moment is tempted to do just that just to make sure he won’t be drowned again. But then his stubborn streak kicks in despite his fear. He’s the man who had given up his home and his family to protect his guilty wife; he had been the one to stand up for Ellie in court, he’d defended her when everyone ignored or reviled her.

He couldn’t betray her like that. Not now.

“It- _never happened_ , Joe.”

The answer, rough and honest, drives the latter crazy. Previous threats of water suddenly forgotten in his explosive rage Joe again grabs him by his shirt and hauls him away from the water’s edge, letting the copper fall onto the dirt. A sharp, quiet ‘click’ fills the sudden silence of the riverside, and Alec freezes. Metal glints in Joe’s hand, a sharp pocket knife its source. He begins to slide backwards without conscious thought but Joe follows him with that same dark look in his eyes, the fury of just a moment ago still burning hot. “Ellie’s mine. She’s just angry right now but she’ll remember that she loves me! She’ll come back to me soon.”

Joe’s beyond reason, but with no other way out but by that Alec tries to reach him anyway, still sliding backwards and trying to free his hands. The rope has loosened. “Joe, this isn’t going to help you. This isn’t going to help her. You can still back away from this!”

“I want to hear you say it!” The knife flashes as Joe crouches and holds its blade up, very close to the copper’s neck. “I want the man who destroyed our perfect lives to admit it! Admit that you turned my wife against me.”

Alec doesn’t speak, doesn’t even try to move; pushed to the very edge of tolerance and shaken by Joe’s words the only thing he can do is laugh. It’s raw and humorless and not entirely sane and it gives Joe pause. 

“I’ve fucked up a lot of lives, Joe. Yours isn’t one of them.” The prevalent self-loathing he can’t quite keep hidden from his voice is telling and it catches Joe’s attention. To Alec’s luck, it specifically catches the attention of the sanity and reason that the murderer has left. Curious pity softens Joe’s expression for a moment.

“Then you know what I’m doing. You said you’re divorced—you must have wanted to stay with your wife! You can’t tell me you weren’t desperate for your family to stay together!”

The frightening part of Joe’s words is that on one level Alec can understand Joe’s want of his wife and children back. Following Tess’s infidelity he had wanted his family and its stability back more than anything—its crippling absence had literally almost killed him. If he’s completely honest with himself he realizes that he still wants that.

He’s silent for too long. Joe is unnerved by the silence and it makes him nervous. He’s never dealt with fear well—it’s what, after all, led him to choking the life out of Danny that fateful night. He doesn’t notice the copper’s expression suddenly shift as Alec shifts a couple of inches farther away from him but he recognizes fear when he sees it. Pain is something Joe had seen a lot of while working as a paramedic, and he sees it now in the other man’s expression, buried deep in his eyes. 

It stills his hand. Except for Danny, he realizes he has never before hurt another human being before. 

When has his hands changed from a healer’s to a killer’s?

It makes him angry all over again, that question, and he’s still hasn’t had time to calm down from his last furious outburst. “What’s wrong with me, then?” he shouts suddenly, his skin flushing red again. “You all look at me like I’m a freak, like I’m wrong, even Ellie—telling me I can’t see my own sons, threatening to kill me if I speak to them. I’ve saved people, I’ve saved lives! I’ve _mattered_!”

“You’re not the only one whose life matters, Joe!” Alec retorts furiously. “Those girls at Sandbrook, Danny, any child killed—what about those lives?”

Joe is predictable, exactly what Alec is counting on. He’s hoping his words will tip the man over the edge and make him lose his temper all over again and he’s rewarded when Joe shouts like an enraged bull and lifts the knife higher, aiming to stab—

The ropes slide off from where he’s been working at them and he catches Joe’s wrist just in time. His attacker’s eyes widen in shock but that’s all he can do before Alec wrests the knife away and throws it in the dirt several feet away. Pain lances up his sides at his sudden movements but Alec ignores it and kicks Joe away from him. Dirt flies as Joe lands heavily on his back and he barely registers the scramble Miller’s husband makes to grab the knife again. He pants and tries to catch his breath, coughing as his body tries to expel the remains of the water he’s inhaled. When he looks back up Joe is crouched over, clutching the knife in a trembling hand. 

Faint sirens, far far off, still the moment. Struggling to keep in control, Alec catches Joe’s eye, shuddering. “You didn’t cover your tracks, Joe,” he rasps painfully. For a moment the man looks at him with calmer, wider, frightened eyes. A pitiful wreck. “Just stop this, Joe,” he pleads. “Please. Tell us where you have Fred. Give Ellie that. You don’t have to be this way.”

“My life is ruined,” Joe whimpers, clutching the knife closer. “My family, my friends—they all hate me.” A low sob escapes his throat. “I killed Danny.”

Something in the atmosphere is changing. Something bad. The muscles in Alec’s arms and back tighten, preparing for either flight or fight. Several feet separates them. 

The knife glints and Joe swallows hard. “Nothing’s worth living for when you don’t have your family.”

_Shit_! They move at the same time, Joe driving the blade towards his own stomach and Alec leaping to stop him.


	3. Part III

Ellie wakes with a start, jolting where she lays. The sheets have ended up bunched up at her feet somehow and she struggles to sit up enough, still half-asleep, to pull them straight again. She pauses when she notices she hasn’t undressed from her day clothes, wearing a pair of jeans she hasn’t washed in two days and a shirt she pulled out at random from the bottom of her dresser drawers. She groans under breath and looks at the clock blinking softly in the darkness. 

1:28 am. 

She’s managed to catch maybe two hours of sleep tonight. Maybe five since Paul told her of Joe’s slipping back into the town almost three days ago. Three days since Fred went missing.

She doesn’t have to wonder who it was took her little boy. She doesn’t have to guess. She knows that it’s Joe who stole him away and it’s her anger even more than her fear that keeps her awake and pacing. She’s terrified, assuredly and completely terrified, but she warned the bastard off six months ago and he’s still had the guts (and stupidity) to come after her sons.

She’ll kill him. It’s a white-hot rage that boils in her very core and doesn’t let her rest.

Tom has tried to make it easier on her and it breaks her heart to know that. He’s done the dishes and laundry while she’s occupied with her job or looking for any information about her husband; the trash cans have been empty and the floors have been vacuumed and swept time and time again even though they don’t need any more cleaning. But she can feel his eyes on her, helpless and worried, and she knows he’s just as frightened for Fred as she is and she can imagine he’s just as frustrated. She thinks she heard him crying in Fred’s room yesterday but she doesn’t dare let him know she had. 

Beth has been her steadying factor. She’s grateful for that, at least; Joe’s trial had still somehow let her friendship with Beth continue and in this time of frenzied agony and fear her old friend is the one she turns to. Beth understands the fear of losing a son and although Ellie has no such confirmation yet that Fred is forever beyond her reach she has already cried like he is. It’s Beth who drew her close this time and stroked her hair and let her scream and choke her tears out until the worst of her hell had worked itself out.

Broadchurch itself is in an uproar. The arrest of her husband and his subsequent trial had cracked the community in two but with Fred’s kidnapping by whom the police is stating is Joe Miller even those townspeople who did not entirely agree about Joe’s guilt are calling for his blood now.

She can only hope that they can find Fred in time to rescue him from his twisted father’s clutches. 

The knock at the front door catches her attention and she realizes that it was the heavy banging against it that had woken her up from her nightmares to begin with. She hears the floor creaking under Tom’s weight as he climbs out of bed and she kicks the blankets away from her feet so she can stand. He looks into her room, wide-eyed and pale, and Ellie waves him inside.

“Wait here,” she whispers, laying a hand gently on his cheek. He doesn’t argue but he doesn’t sit down. 

Ellie descends the stairs, her heart flying in her chest as she thinks about the fact that there are very few reasons why anyone would be knocking on her door so early in the morning; in her worst fantasies it's one of her team at the station to tell her her son is dead. 

“Ellie! Ellie, let me in!”

Beth’s stricken shout jolts her firmly from inaction and she rushes to the door to find her friend dressed hastily in wrinkled clothes and sandals, looking back at her with wide eyes. She hasn’t seen Beth look so frightened in a long time. “Beth, what--?”

But her friend merely shakes her head and grabs her hand, forcing her outside. “You have to come, Ell, we’ll get Lucy to watch Tom and keep him occupied—“

“Beth, wha--? Stop, now! Beth, what’s going on—“

The door of the blue plumber’s van springs open and Mark turns into view, very grim. Ellie’s stomach plummets. “We’re taking you to Sandbrook, Ellie. Right now.”

Ellie’s jaw drops. “Sandbrook? What the hell is going on?!” Dimly she hears Beth rush back into the house calling for Tom, telling him he needs to pack some clothes and be prepared to be dropped off at his aunt’s in a few minutes.

“Joe’s come back, Ell,” Mark states furiously, his hands turning into fists as he says it. Ellie nearly snaps at him that she knows this already, or didn’t he notice that Fred was gone? 

Beth comes rushing back out. “He’s in hospital, Ellie,” she tells her breathlessly; her voice trembles and Ellie is too stunned to speak. Beth swallows hard and plunges into the explanation. “Turns out Maggie’s get better eyes and ears out there than we guessed. He went after Alec Hardy.”

Hardy. My god. Ellie shakes her head. “What?”

Tom protests his being left behind while his mother goes to see Joe in Sandbrook but Ellie tells him in no uncertain terms that he is not to disobey in this regard and he falls sullenly silent. Beth shrugs helplessly as she helps Ellie into the van. “Police and ambulance brought Joe to hospital in Sandbrook a couple of hours ago—it seems like he got the jump on Hardy, had him somewhere near the river. They’re saying Joe was accidentally stabbed with his own knife.”

“Accidentally, my arse,” Ellie mutters, hunching forward. She’s glad she remembered to grab her orange coat

“It was,” Beth insists.

“How d’you know that, then?” It’s a heavily sarcastic and rude question, one Beth doesn’t deserve, but Ellie is still too shocked to care.

“Police found Hardy staunching the bloodflow,” Mark replies darkly, flying along the road. 

Ellie almost retorts that anything can be twisted into your favor if there are no witnesses but she stops herself. It seems a betrayal to consider the possibility of Hardy having a willing hand in stabbing Joe but she’s found her outlook on life and human character has changed. Joe had killed a defenseless boy in a fit of uncharacteristic rage; she had only recently listened to Lee Ashworth explain that he had suffocated a sleeping girl simply so that he and his wife wouldn’t be caught out by Lisa Newberrie’s murder. She recalls Hardy’s own words from the early days in Danny’s murder case. 

_‘Anybody is capable of murder given the right circumstances.’_

She doesn’t _know_. That’s what makes it so awful.

0000000

The hospital is fairly quiet, a direct contrast from the absolute mess Ellie feels she is inside; Beth is by her side, arm twined with hers, while Mark walks behind them as a silent, glaring shadow. Ellie struggles to control her trembling as they turn a corner to the receptionist’s desk—

And there’s a police officer standing there. “DI Ellie Miller?” he asks. He’s a tall, rather burly black man with white-peppered midnight hair and kind dark eyes. She’s heartened to find that his face is naturally kind even if his expression at the moment is grave.

“Yes.”

He nods once, his eyes glancing over at Beth and Mark with a silent nod. If he recognizes them for who they are he gives no sign. “Come with me.”

Belatedly she wonders how this man knows what she looks like on sight but as they walk three hallways and a flight of stairs and turn a corner she realizes why.

Hardy sits hunched in a seat with his elbows resting on his knees, head bowed as if in prayer. When hearing their footsteps he looks up with a wide-eyed expression, unprepared for their arrival. Beth gasps softly to herself and Ellie feels her stomach clench. Livid bruising colors his face and it’s clear his lip has been split and hastily cleaned. With his jacket off it’s easy to see the drying water stains on his collar and shoulders, and his hair hangs limp and damp down over his eyes. 

“Guests for you, sir,” the police officer leading them says and his expression has softened slightly looking down at the DI. “We’ll be leaving for the station as soon as we get word on Miller’s condition, get a formal statement logged in.” He turns to Ellie. “Your husband is in surgery right now. A doctor should be out soon with an update. I’ll be back shortly, got to bring the car around.” He pauses, waiting for a reply from Alec, but the latter is staring at his feet again and makes no answer. 

Ellie waits until the officer is gone before stepping up to her former colleague. “You know, I only threatened to kill him.”

Beth’s jaw drops and even Mark looks taken aback by such a bleak statement.

It works with catching Hardy’s attention, though. “Figured you’d want the bastard dealt with.” His accent is just as rough as ever, perhaps even more so than normal, but his voice isn’t near the volume nor detachment it usually is. He sounds, Ellie thinks sadly, very young. There’s a slight trembling to his hands and a half-familiar glint to his eyes that she doesn’t like. He chances a quick look at the Latimers before he ducks his head again. “Mark. Beth.”

Ellie flounders for something—anything—that will ease the awful pressure between them. “Well, now you remember manners.”

“’S not manners,” he retorts, running his hands through his hair. “I think I’m in a wee bit of a shock.”

Post-traumatic stress. The look in his eyes is the same as when he mentioned Pippa Gillespie, remembering the horror of finding the young girl’s body in the river. 

And suddenly she finds she is very very angry. “What did he do?” she demands.

“Miller—“ He trails off almost immediately.

“No, you don’t get to do that,” she says sharply. “My stupid fucking husband did this to you, he hurt you, and now you’re trying to tell me you can’t say why? I need to know, damn it!”

_‘You’re going to bottle this up and mess yourself up even more.’_

He swallows hard, silent for a long moment.

Bloody hell, he’s a mess. More so than usual. Ellie doesn’t want to but she realizes she’s going to have to turn the tables around on him. She snaps her fingers sharply in his face, making him jump. “Focus, Hardy!” she snaps. “Turn it off.”

That does it. His own words from all those months ago standing over Danny’s body snaps him back from whatever dark well he’s been descending. He straightens in his seat and looks up at her again and she’s pleased to see his eyes are calmer. He hasn’t missed the irony of the moment. “I heard about your son. I was talking to Tess over the phone and- I dunno, he came up behind me. Knocked me out.”

“You must be a pushover,” Ellie states wryly, trying to get him completely out of his head.

“I think he hit me with a crowbar.” The heavily sarcastic explanation makes Beth snort in amusement. Even Mark’s lip twitches. “When I woke up I was beside the river God knows where.”

“And?” Her voice is coldly clinical. This is just another investigation, after all, she keeps on telling herself. Just solving another crime.

It seems to help him. “He wanted me to tell him when we were having an affair.”

“That’s it?”

He shrugs. “He was planning on coming after you as well. But it seems he’s smart enough to know when his life has been seriously threatened. He prolly choose me ‘cos I was in easiest reach.”

“What did you tell him?”

His expression darkens. “What do you think, Miller?” he growls, the sudden hurt in his eyes masked by his fury.

She realizes too late how that question sounds, what it probably does with her reflection on his character, and she flushes. “Sorry,” she says quietly. “I’m sorry, I know you’re not that sort of person. You wouldn’t tell him just what he wanted to hear.”

“Thanks.” His voice is acid.

“So he finally got so fed up that he, what, threatened you with the knife?”

He shakes his head. “No. The water came first.”

Beth’s eyes widen. “He threatened to drown you?”

“Nearly did.” His voice trembles just a bit again. Ellie feels her stomach drop again. What monster had she married? She’s tempted for just a moment to lay a hand on his shoulder but stops herself at the last moment.

She sits beside him instead. “And then?” She’s determined to hear the full story and not shy away from it. “He brought out the knife?”

He nods. “Yeah. And I dunno how, we started fighting. He was out of his head entirely. We were on the ground scrabbling, the knife slipped—"

“And he managed to impale himself on it,” Ellie concludes.

“I- don’t know.” His hesitancy does not help her nerves. Beth glances at her nervously then at Hardy, clearly just as concerned for him as she is for Ellie herself. He meets her gaze, imploring, and she knows he’s telling the truth. “It happened so fast, we both had a hand on it. I don’t remember.”

“You did more than I would’ve, mate,” Mark informs him with a dark scowl. “I woulda let the bastard bleed to death.”

“Didn’t think about that. I saw the blood and I was on autopilot.”

Ellie is fairly certain he’s just shamed herself and several of those in Broadchurch saying that. In her anger and disgust and fury for her husband’s actions she’s sure that she would have let Joe die. Beth and Mark she thinks would have done the same as her. 

But she’s seen already that Alec Hardy has a bigger heart than first glance (or even second or third glances) told.

“Alec!”

The exclamation makes them all turn and look to find Tess hurrying along the hallway, dressed half-hazardly with her wispy hair slipping from its clip. Hardy stays where he is but something in his posture seems to sag when he sees her and Ellie suddenly fights the urge to stop the other woman from stepping past her to the waiting DI. Tess steps past the Latimers entirely and barely glances at Ellie as she stops. 

He speaks first. “Does Daisy--?”

Tess shakes her head. “She’s at a friend’s house for tonight. C’mon, we need to get to the station soon.” She holds her hand out but unsurprisingly he ignores it and pushes himself to his feet with a low hiss of pain. His gaze slips past Tess and lands on the Latimers. 

“You haven’t met Mark and Beth yet, Tess.”

The deliberate jab in his words and tone takes Ellie by surprise but for once she’s not angered by his rudeness. In some ways he’s acknowledging the mother and father of the boy Joe had killed, letting his former wife know he won’t tolerate her brushing them off as meaningless. Tess’s mouth thins, recognizes his words for the barb they are, but luckily she takes it in stride and turns to look at the waiting husband and wife with her usual smug grin. “I’m sorry. I’m Tess Henchard—Alec’s ex-wife.”

Beth’s eyes land on Hardy once more, taken aback by the surprising information but she rallies quickly. Her smile is too polite to be genuine (a fact only Ellie recognizes) and her grip is firm as she shakes Tess’s hand. “Beth Latimer.”

“Yes, I know.” There’s a lot left unsaid in those words but Beth is not in the mood to fight with a woman she doesn’t know and lets it slide. “Now, we really do need to head to the station- have you been looked at already, Alec?”

Her tone is like a weary mother patronizing her unruly child; Ellie sees his lip curl in a familiar sneer of irritation and jumps in before he can speak. “Actually, I, uh- I think he needs to be examined, actually- get that cut on the back of his head looked at again… although with his thick skull it probably didn’t hurt at all…”

“What?” The open bewilderment in his tone almost breaks Ellie’s carefully neutral expression; she doesn’t have to see his face to imagine the look of confusion he’s giving her. She’s glad she’s distracted him for now.

“Do you feel any dizziness at all, then, Hardy? Any signs of concussion?”

“What?”

She wants to smack his arm but decides that that wouldn’t be the best move she could make in this circumstance. Not after what Joe’s done to him. She settles for her widest fake smile and a glare in his direction. “There you are, then. Confusion. See? Concussion. C’mon, we’ll go get you a doctor.” She grabs hold of his shirt sleeve and drags him along; he’s astonished enough he doesn’t argue. Beth and Mark watch them go with open mouths as Tess just shakes her head in a mix of exasperation and amusement.

“What just happened?” Mark asks carefully.

“Alec being an idiot,” Tess answers primly, smoothing down her shirt. She sits down on one of the chairs and crosses her legs. “You might as well sit down,” she tells them. “They’re going to be awhile.”


	4. Chapter 4

Ellie finds a deserted ladies’ restroom one floor down and ducks inside, dragging a still-protesting Hardy behind her. “Miller, I’m fine, they’ve already made sure—“

“You’re a daft idiot,” Ellie informs him shortly as the door swings shut behind them. She lets go of his elbow and crosses her arms, glaring up at him. “I really don’t know how you’ve managed to become a detective missing a cue like that.”

He gapes at her, brows drawing down into a scowl. “I didn’t do anything, Miller—“

“Exactly!”

“- and I don’t even know why you’re angry at me right now—“

“You wouldn’t know a social cue if it hit you in the face,” Ellie snarls, “and I’m not angry with you! Well, I am, but that’s only because it’s been six bloody months and you haven’t texted or called or- or—“

“Don’t you dare,” he retorts, bristling. His accent is thick enough in his anger she almost can’t understand him. “Don’t you dare try to put that all on me. I haven’t called you but you sure as hell haven’t tried to contact me either.”

“That’s not- it’s not an excuse, me not calling!”

“Then what is it, eh?” Fury has brightened his eyes and flushed his face as he glares at her. “I left Broadchurch and you let our last conversation be pretty damn final.”

“You left!” she shouts, fists balled at her sides. “You did leave, you couldn’t bloody well wait to! And now Joe’s almost killed you!” And abruptly she starts to cry.

He looks so horrified by her unexpected tears it would be almost comical if she wasn’t already so upset. “Miller—“

She presses a hand to her mouth in an attempt to stop her tears, but her next breath escapes as a strangled sob. “Joe’s hurt, he almost killed you, and Fred- god, Fred, my boy, we still haven’t found him, who knows where Joe’s hidden him away—“

They’ve switched roles in a turn of events neither of them quite realize but they fall into it easily enough. Ellie tries to stifle her tears, unable to stand the fact that she’s the one crying when he’s the one who’s been tortured by her sick bastard of a husband, but Alec’s already seen her at her most pathetic and he doesn’t shy away now. “We’ll find him,” he states softly and clearly. “We’ll get Joe to talk.”

“But he could’ve taken him anywhere!” Ellie sobs. “Fred’s been gone for three days and maybe he did s-something to make Joe angry—”

Stress and the unimaginable horror of the thought she’s just given herself proves to be too much. Feeling her stomach turn abruptly she spins on her heel and desperately claws open a stall door where she falls on her knees and is violently sick in the toilet. She isn’t aware of Alec’s presence until she feels a hand on her shoulder, tentatively comforting, and she turns on her haunches to gaze up at him in a haze of exhaustion and tears. “Why aren’t you bent over puking your guts out?” she accuses him.

His mouth twists in a wry, ironic way. “Who says I haven’t already?” he counters.

“You… were checked over already, weren’t you?” Ellie asks him after his statement and its implications sinks in. “By the doctors?”

He nods uncomfortably. When he realizes she wants an explanation he sighs. “They were mostly concerned about the pacemaker. And they were afraid about the possibility of dry-drowning…” He trails off.

Ellie reaches up blindly behind her and flushes away the mess she’s made. She sits in silent dejection in the stall for a long moment, trying to prepare herself for whatever other curve ball life is going to throw her, and Alec finally has pity on her. “C’mon, Miller. We won’t be able to find wee Fred in here.” He holds out his hand offering her help up to her feet; after a moment she takes it.

“I knew you were forgetting his name on purpose,” she mutters to her shoes. They’ve become scuffed by the dirt on the floor.

He seems very interested in those scuff marks as well. The silence lingers unbearable between them until finally Ellie looks up at him again, wiping the remnants of her tears from her face. “I’m glad you’re okay.”

His expression worries. “I won’t be when Tess gets hold of me. She’ll find a way to turn this all around and make it my fault.”

“Funny that we’ve conveniently gone to find you a doctor, then, isn’t it?” Ellie says icily.

Comprehension finally dawns and Ellie nearly despairs of the intelligence of men. “Oh.”

~/~/~/~/~

“So what are you doing traveling with Ellie at four in the morning?” Tess asks where she sits. She’s fixed her unruly hair and straightened her wrinkled clothing, and sitting now with perfect posture she looks as impervious as ever. Beth, standing to the side of her, finds her distinctly arrogant and immediately dislikes her, but the silence hanging between them is too heavy and she finds herself answering anyway.

“We brought her. She wouldn’t have done very well driving here by herself.”

Tess’s smile is tight. “She doesn’t handle nerves were very well, does she?”

Beth takes the veiled insult as it is but although her mouth tightens with anger she doesn’t allow herself to start a fight with this woman. “We needed to know what had happened.”

Tess’s gaze grows shrewd and almost calculating as she looks back at the defiant mother. “Yes,” she agrees softly, “I suppose you did. And I’m sure that we’ll find out everything once Ellie brings Alec back from wherever she’s stolen him.”

“How do you know Ellie?” Beth demands, finally allowing her curiosity to override her sense of manners.

“I helped Alec and Ellie solve Sandbrook. They spent quite a bit of time together. It’s no wonder they were accused of having an affair; Ellie was always with him at his home.”

Beth’s stomach tightens despite telling herself that appearances aren’t always as they seem; she remembers the trial and Sharon Bishop’s allegations— even the supposed evidence— and at the time she had used that as further cause to blame Ellie for everything that had happened. Since the tentative repairing of their friendship she’s been careful to not allow those old accusations to fester but Tess’s words cause them to spring up again. She falls into troubled silence.

Five more minutes pass before they finally see their missing pair come back. Ellie is in the lead with a considerably calmer expression than when she had left, and Alec trails after her with his hands in his pockets. Beth moves forward first. “Are you okay?” she asks, to Alec as much as to Ellie. The latter nods silently answering for them both. She’s been crying, that much Beth can see, but Ellie is definitely calmer than she had been. She can’t help but look in the DI’s direction. “So what did the doctor say?”

“Still alive,” Alec replies shortly, in no mood to discuss himself. Ellie rolls her eyes in exasperation.

“Then I’m sure you won’t mind heading home,” Tess replies from her seat. She stands when Alec’s attention falls on her, walking over to stand on Ellie’s side. 

For a moment Alec and Ellie look at each other, silently debating. They’ve become in-tuned with each other enough now to be able to discuss in silence. They agree at the same moment. “I’m going to Broadchurch, Tess,” he says aloud. “Miller needs all the help she can get to find Fred. You’re welcome to come along.”

She’s unprepared for such an abrupt answer; for a split second her careful control shifts and she flounders. “Alec, you can’t—”

“I’m going, Tess. Are you coming or not?”

She mutters something along the lines of “stubborn Scot” but nods. “Yes, I’ll come.”

Alec’s reply of ‘good’ borders on sarcastic but Tess doesn’t start an argument. Drawing herself up straight she turns away. “I’ll go start the car.”

Her footsteps haven’t faded before a doctor comes out of one of the adjourning rooms. He’s a barrel-chested balding man who has a naturally kind smile and pale blue eyes, but he looks grim as he approaches. 

“Ms. Miller?” he asks.

Ellie swallows. “Yes?” She refuses to acknowledge in any other way that she’s still married to Joe Miller. Luckily the doctor takes this as good enough confirmation that he’s speaking to the right person. Beth pushes off of the wall and takes a step closer. 

“Your husband is stable for now,” he says, unmindful of his audience. “The puncture wound to his torso was serious but it luckily did not manage to tear into his stomach or intestines. There is still some bleeding and swelling that we’re going to have to watch but he’s able to breath by himself.” He pauses, as if he’s waiting to hear some kind of exclamation or sigh of relief from the waiting Ellie Miller, but every face turned towards him is stony and grim and he falters. “I- ah, if you would like to see him now, Ms. Miller—”

“I’ll see him when he wakes up, thank you,” Ellie replies flatly before he can finish. “I’ll have my phone on me. Make sure I know exactly when he wakes up— it’s for police business.” And without waiting for a reply, leaving the doctor looking gobsmacked, she turns on her heel and starts off. “Come on,” she calls to her companions. “We’re heading back to Broadchurch.”

“Thanks, Doc,” Mark says, for more politeness than anything else.

“Mr. Hardy,” the doctor calls, realizing at the last moment who it is walking with Joe Miller’s wife. “Be sure if you feel any tightness in your chest you go seek medical attention immediately. There’s still the possibility of fluid in your lungs.”

“I’ve had experience already with this, thanks,” comes the caustic reply, but only Ellie sees the fear in his eyes. She fights the urge to grab hold of his arm to make sure he’s going to be alright, but with a familiar stubbornness he pushes on, shaking away the memories of drowning in Sandbrook’s river.

Beth doesn’t know of his hatred of water. She has to hurry to keep up with his long strides. “This has happened to you before? Almost drowning, I mean?”

Ellie turns to her with a glare, unable to believe the heartlessness of her best friend’s question. But Alec surprises her. Instead of lashing out or even responding in his usual terse way, he pauses for just a moment and looks back at the waiting mother. It’s his respect for her that keeps his tongue from sharpening. “Years ago now.”

Beth realizes that she’s treading on dangerous territory. “I’m sorry. I didn’t know.”

He recognizes it for the apology that it is but he's unable to respond without his careful mask cracking. Glancing briefly at Ellie with eyes that can’t quite hide their rawness he turns again and walks on without replying.

It’s all Joe, Ellie thinks to herself. It’s always Joe. Her thoughts veer into her hatred for her husband, lying wounded and possibly dying in a hospital bed. She won’t see him until she can get him to tell her where Fred is. Alec hasn’t mentioned if Joe had told him so she knows that her youngest son’s whereabouts is a mystery to all of them. She can only hope that Fred is still safe and well wherever he is. Had he been frightened by his father? Had Fred cried when Joe picked him up when he took him? She imagines it in her mind for a moment, sees Joe’s hands grab hold of Fred and hoisting him up. Those hands which had held Fred close for so many months after he’d been born.

Those hands, which had killed Danny so carelessly. Those hands, which had so very nearly killed the man she somehow considers a friend.

Appearances be damned.

Her hand trails up of its own accord and grips his elbow, squeezing it gently to let Alec know that she’s there.


End file.
